Monster Hunter is hugely popular in Japan, but that means very little to us. We live in the United States of America -- Call of Duty isn't a bathroom joke anymore, and Halo is something we play instead of wear. Hunting dinosaurs hasn't quite penetrated the mass market here, but that doesn't mean it hasn't influenced how Capcom goes about making games.

Listen: One time I bought Monster Hunter Freedom Unite because I was under the impression that all my friends would gather at a lodge, PSP's in hand, and ad-hoc our little hearts out. The women would make us bologna and cheese sandwiches, and refill our drink of choice -- chocolate milk -- when our glasses ran low. Instead, I fumbled my way through the tutorial and became dead. In the world of Monster Hunter, monster is code for dinosaur, and big giant sword is code for big, molasses-oar dinosaur-fan.

After time, I wasn't afraid of the harmless bugs and even foraged for food in the shrubs. I befriended cats that cooked better than my mom, and killed a dinosaur with dumb luck. I was on my way to becoming a sort of threat to the dinos, but was by no means a hunter -- maybe a give-you-second-thought-before-you-attack-me prey.

After continuous dedication and devotion I "got it," but didn't have any friends who were willing to buy the game and do the same. I also got to the point where advancing to any other dinos that didn't die with my magic dumb luck or big, molasses-oar dinosaur-fan was impossible. Because of these reasons, I reluctantly got rid of Monster Hunter Freedom Unite.

Not long after that, I clogged my broadband connection with a demonstration version of a sequel to a game I could slay the so-called monsters: Lost Planet 2. Turns out, it wasn't much different than Monster Hunter.

There's a page two, don't worry. The article doesn't just end abruptly, that would be weird.

...what are you still doing here?